Posted in Misc Notes, Personal Reflections, The Arts-Poetry

POEM: “The hurtful-healing whisper’d words” by K.T. Klay

Words are nothing…

…they are the whisper of a breeze.

Yet they have the power of a double edge sword,

and can summon…

…such irrational fears.


I hear the words

…I love you…

I long to hear

…I love you…

Those words I need

…I love you…

They bring pain and they bring fear

…I love you…

The terror grows

…I love you…

My heart it knows

…I love you…

those bitter sweet words

…I love you…

Reduce me to tears

…I love you…

the tears they flow

…I love you…

I feel the blow

…I love you…

I long for it much

…I love you…

A gentle touch

…I love you…


…I love you…

My wounded heart cries

…I love you…

The lies, the lies

…I love you…

I need it to be true

…I love you…

Those words from you

…I love you…

Yet I find it hard

…I love you…

To believe anew

…I love you…

And yet…

…I love you


Those three words

…I love you…

Those whispered words

…I love you…

A whispered breeze

…I love you…

Have not power

…I love you…

yet bring healing

…I love you…

Or bring pain

…I love you…

There are no three words

…I love you…

That pack such a punch

…I love you…

For better or worse

…I love you…

Than the words

…”I love you”…

 -K.T. Klay (c)2018




Posted in Life and Encouragement, Misc Notes, Personal Reflections

Things I wish everyone knew about me (I’m an INFJ personality) that don’t come up in casual conversation.

NOTE Isabel Myers (1897-1980) and her mother, Katharine Cook Briggs (1875-1968), developers of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator® instrument, shared a vision. They wanted to enable individuals to grow through an understanding and appreciation of individual differences in healthy personalities and to enhance harmony and productivity in diverse groups.  Find out your personality type here.

Things I wish everyone knew about me (I’m an INFJ personality) that don’t come up in casual conversation.

  1. When I stare into your eyes, I’m not coming-on to you. I look into your eyes and see the real you; I see past your words and your outer walls, to see the real you. I then compare what’s on the outside with what’s on the inside.
  2. You can tell me anything; it doesn’t matter how horrible or wonderful it is. As long as you are honest and what I see in your body and words, matches with what I see in your eyes, it won’t phase me. I value honesty and keeping it real. If you share something with me, it stays with me.
  3. I think I am a good friend. I love being there for others. If I can, I will always try to be.
  4. I go out of my way to avoid hurting anyone and then I get hurt in the process.
  5. I feel intensely and I like being full of emotion yet sometimes I think I might burst.
  6. Sometimes it’s hard to balance my emotions – sometimes it’s even hard to know what I am feeling. That’s what makes me moody.
  7. I rarely let my guard down and as much as I wish to open up with people the risk is just too high. And when I open up I am torn between euphoria and fearful regret.
  8. I have a very rich and chaotic inner world and I spend a lot of time there. It’s my happy place.
  9. Sometimes, I have a hard time with spontaneous changes in plans but that doesn’t mean I can’t warm up to new ideas.
  10. I feel like an idiot when I speak with other people a lot, especially if/when I say something or am speaking and people talk over me or act like they haven’t heard me.
  11. I can throw the biggest most flamboyant pity party for myself.
  12. I do feel social and like to engage in social activity but it’s hard for me to arrange meetings and parties. I don’t throw them, but I’ll likely come to one if invited. If you invite me and I don’t come, it may be because I’m just emotionally and physically drained by everything going on around me.
  13. When I am with another person alone I am much more social and don’t burn out so easily. I love to focus on you, and it’s hard to focus in large groups, especially when many people are vying for my attention or there’s a lot of activity going on.
  14. I am Stubborn. When I’ve decided to do something, it’s really hard to stop me.
  15. When I overreact it’s not because I want to create drama, it’s because the last 20 times I haven’t reacted at all…I’ve shoved down my feelings.,. and now everything I’ve shoved down comes out all at once.
  16. When someone I care about gets hurt, it hurts me too. When you cry or hurt, I feel it and cry and hurt with you.
  17. I like being complex but I don’t like that it makes me so complicated sometimes.
  18. I love how empathetic I am but I wish I wouldn’t feel other people’s emotions as strong as they were my own.
  19. I remember pretty much everything anybody has ever told me about themselves. Yet I don’t let people know most of the time as I don’t want to be a creeper. When I meet a new person, I usually look will research them. I do it to see that you are the same when I see you as elsewhere. Also, If you send me a friend request, I will often research you before I accept your request.
  20. I often feel weak as stress, anger, disappointment and conflict affect me physically. High emotion will often leave me completely drained and needing to just sleep for days.
  21. Expectations… I try not to have any because mine are always too high – and I don’t want to be pushy. When people don’t meet my expectations, it causes #19 to rise up.
  22. I don’t mean to shut out anyone when I am shutting down. Sometimes I just need to re-attach to myself.
  23. Even though I need my alone time I don’t want to be alone all the time.
  24. I am most allergic to people telling me how I should feel. Most of the time, I know what to do and feel…feel free to ask me if I want advice, but most of the time I just need a good hug and someone to sit and listen…and listen…and listen…and maybe cry with me.
  25. I crave intense friendships and relationships – I am not into lukewarm or half-assed people or relationships. I need to be needed. I need to be appreciated for what/who I am.
  26. I am a walking contradiction yet everything makes sense to me.
  27. I will tell you anything if I can sense you really want to know. If I’m talking, and you start sharing…you may be trying to show you relate or understand….but I will lock up and shut down… it may take a while to open back up to you.
  28. I am a social chameleon. I change how I react in different social environments.
  29. I may walk away from a relationship or friendship if I feel unappreciated, or if I feel like you’re headed in a bad direction from which there is no return. If I feel like what I do who I am is just “taken for granted” or I’m unappreciated, I will walk away, or detach. I may be around physically for a while, but mentally and emotionally, I probably walked away long before I actually walk away.
  30. It’s hard for me to trust, but I want to trust you. If you violate my trust, you may never get me to trust you again. If I trust you with anything, and you blow it, you will have to prove yourself to regain my trust.  But if you keep my trust, I can be the most amazing friend, ally, partner, or….whatever…that you’ve ever known.
  31. If you want to make me feel appreciated, spend time with me. Get to know me…the real, deep me.  Work with me doing things.  Listen to me.  Let me feel, and feel it with me.  Let me laugh, and laugh with me.  Let me cry, and hold me as we cry together. Give me compliments that show that you are really paying attention to me, what it is that I do,  and what I feel.  Make me feel valued, appreciated, interesting, and cherished.   Actions speak louder than words; sometimes silent presence speaks louder than any words as well.


(For more details about this mother-daughter team, refer to the biography Katharine and Isabel: Mother’s Light, Daughter’s Journey by Frances Wright Saunders.)

Posted in Life and Encouragement, The Arts-Poetry

TEARS – a Poem


By K.T. Klay


The sky is clear yet the tempest rages in my heart for you;

torrents of rain fall from my eyes.


Tears are falling,

tears of pain,

tears they fall

like torrents of rain.


They course down my face,

they stream down my cheeks,

my sensitive aching heart

it does not know peace.

I grieve

I mourn

I weep

And I wail

I grieve here with you,

as you fight through your hell.

Yet, tears bring, healing

This I have known

Tears are best,

when they fall not alone


To grieve with another

Can help with our pain

So more quickly we rise

To face life again.

To know in our hearts

That we grieve not alone

I write you this verse

this word

this poem

If you must grieve

Know in your heart

That I am here for you

And I aim not to part

I’ll sit

           I’ll weep

I’ll give you my ear

I’m here for you, friends

Through laughter

through tear.

My shoulder’s a sponge that drinks in your rain;

I sit with you now and weep in your pain.

..and if in your grief, you feel you must hit

My back you may have to release all of it.

It’s OK….

 let it all out…

‘til the skies in our hearts

are again skies of blue.


Posted in Life and Encouragement, Misc Notes, Personal Reflections, The Arts-Poetry

“Friends” a poem by K.T. Klay

What or who are your friends?

A friend is someone who’s actions match their words.

A friend will tell you the truth, even if it makes you BOTH uncomfortable.

They are someone who will be there for you if they can,

or have a really good (and valid) reason why they can’t be.

A friend doesn’t pass the “buck” to someone else when you ask for help.

A friend doesn’t offer “help” with major strings attached.

A friend likes you for who you are,

not for what they can get from you or what you can offer them.

Friends don’t care what’s in your past.

They care about you, and love you where you are, right now.

I’d rather hear an ugly truth than a sweet lie.

Thank you, friends, for being my friends.

 – K.T. Klay –

Posted in Misc Notes, Personal Reflections

I Am Sorry: Personal Reflections & Ruminations

       Other people may not agree with me but…. I have felt that I have been “short” and “snippy” with people the last few weeks. If anyone feels that I may have been that way towards you, I want to apologize. I am sincere in that apology; I offer what follows not as an excuse for what has been going on, but more (I guess) an “airing” or maybe “confession.” I’m pretty open when people ask, and (being an extrovert) I’m pretty transparent in what’s going on. This is just me being a little more transparent, but in writing.
       The “holiday” season has always been a difficult one for me for many reasons. I really don’t have many (any?) fond memories of this time. This is the time where I lost two people in my life who I felt closest to and who’s passing still hurts (see my blog on this: Though both of these deaths were decades apart, they ended up being just a few days apart (Dec 12, 1977 & Dec 17, 2009).
       The holiday season was always a reminder of how we were poor when I was growing up, and a time when we (my siblings and I) were reminded of all we didn’t have….no dad…no money….no stability. To a great degree that thread continues for me to this day. While I don’t care about money and “things” and I do have stability in that I have a safe place to live and not worries, I am constantly reminded of that which I don’t have and may never have. That thing is the thing that is the focus of any and all holidays: family. Family is what holidays are about! You spend time with siblings, parents, spouses, grand parents, grand children, etc, etc, etc… I have siblings, a mother who still lives, aunts, uncles and cousins, but we have never been close despite efforts to change that.
       Though she broke my heart…badly….I am grateful to my friend Sam James, for helping me to realize that “family” and “connection” are what I have sought in all my failed marriages. I am jealous of (and have always been) people with large, close families. This year, I feel more alone than ever, even tough I am surrounded by more people and more close friends than ever. At the same time, I hear how more and more of those around me are connecting with their bigger and bigger families. For obvious reasons (or what I hope are obvious) this is making this holiday sting more.
       While a lack of connection and family hurt, I am grateful for it at the same time. With disconnection to a place or thing, it is easier to walk away. If I chose to go overseas and travel or study…or move permanently…there is no connection calling me back, or holding me here. It’s the old adage of a double-edge sword in that it frees and cuts away what is in front of you, but also cuts and hurts you.
       I don’t expect sympathy or for people to go out of their way for me. I guess I just want a little understanding. I freely offer to all my friends (and most of you have availed yourself) my ear to listen and my shoulder to cry on. You all will always have it. I guess the real point of this is to 1) ask for understanding and forgiveness, 2) organize and sort through my own thoughts and feelings, and 3) use your ears (eyes?) and shoulders to cry on for a few minutes.
       I look back on 2017 and so much has happened…I’ll sit and reflect on this in the days ahead…but the thought that sits heavily and prominently in my mind is that I started 2017 with an unusual heaviness on my heart….weeping and grieving for what I felt was coming in 2017, though I really had no idea. As we approach the end of 2017, I realize I’m feeling the same kind of grief, but not for what’s to come…..but just ….grief. My 2017 “bookends” are tears, and that is my 2017. I hope that 2018, however, starts and ends with laughter, because…
“One good cry a day is enough; the rest of the day must be devoted to laughter.”
– K.T. Klay, 2017-
Posted in Life and Encouragement, Misc Notes, Personal Reflections, The Arts-Poetry

Hearts (Poem) by K. T. Klay

Hearts were made to beat

Hearts were made to love

Hearts were made to be filled

With all that good things are made of


Hearts are made to guide

Hearts were made to cherish

Hearts were not made

to beat alone.


Hearts were not made to be broken

Hearts were not made to hurt

Harts were not made to be crushed

By pain, loneliness, and rejection.


But, half a heart is not a whole


A heart cannot be cold

A heart cannot be made of stone

A heart should not be made

To cry out a sorrow-filled tone


I must go on

I’m still alive

Though without a heart

How may I survive

I must be strong

I must be tough

I must keep my heart soft

and warm to the touch

© 2017 K.T. Klay


Posted in Personal Reflections

Contending with the Cold, Claws of Death

Through our lives, we all will experience the death of a loved one. Death can be so different for each person as they lose someone they love, and for each person who slips away.  I have lost many friends and loved ones through the years.  There are those who have passed I still mourn like Robin Williams, and Leonard Nemoy; men who had a profound effect on my life. There are, however, two deaths that I remember and that still affect me in a deep and profound way; these are the passing of my father, and my “grandmother-in-love,” Annie (or Anne) Taylor.

It was a warm day that December as I trudged home from school. I was walking home from second grade; a journey I took daily. As I rounded the corner onto my street, I looked up at the magnificent dwelling I called home. Being six-years old, I really didn’t appreciate the majesty of where we lived, the elegance that greeted my eye. The house was a three story adobe mansion near the top of the hill. In fact, there was only one house higher up on that hill than ours. I gazed up at the 10-foot retaining wall surrounding the down-hill side of our home, I breathed a sigh of relief in anticipation of the fact that I’d be home, soon. I looked past the bushes and trees along the corners and up at the ivory towers, with black rod iron porches jutting from it; this was home.   I looked toward my room; it was the highest point in the house, with double French doors that opened out onto the flat roof/porch outside my room.  It meant nothing to me then, but I could see the Rio Grande River and the city of Juarez, Mexico from my spacious porch.   Just a few weeks before, we had visited that city and purchased “touristy items.”  I thought about the serape and bamboo snake that I had gotten there.  It was almost time for winter break, and I’d have time to play with my toys, rather than going to the school I hated.   I thought about this, as I climbed the winding snake-like path that the steps took as I ascended to the front door of the house.   I opened the large, wooden door to enter my home, totally unaware of the fact that all I held dear was about to come crashing down.

I stepped into the large, regal, plush room that was the den. The burgundy velvet curtains that framed the front windows seemed heavier, bloodier than normal.  The large fireplace that engulfed the south wall seemed to be frozen in a silent, screaming, gape instead of breathing warm life into the room. The grand chandelier that normally twinkled like stars in the sky, seemed to be a cold, frozen spider web that hovered in space. The opening to the dining room seemed to expand in front of me like a dark cavern, rather than the shining cornucopia of abundance that it normally was.  On a couch in the corner sat my Aunt Faye and Uncle Jim, “What are they doing here?”  I soon had my answer; my mother came in and whisked me like a gale-force wind to my parents’ bedroom. If I thought things were cold before, I was about to find that they could become much colder.

“Your father was in a car accident on the way back from a job. He’ll be OK, but he’s got a broken arm and legs, and he’s got some broken ribs.  He’s going to be OK, but it’s gonna take time for him to get better and we’ll just have to be patient.” Looking back, I think she was trying to assure herself more than me or my siblings. “Aunt Faye and Uncle Jim are going to stay with you kids, and I’m going to go see your father, tonight. I’ll see you, tomorrow.”   With that, she left.  The rest of the day was a blur.  Even the next morning is much a blur.   What was happening to my life? How can a six-year old child understand the complexities of what was happening? Ready or not, I was about to find out. If that day had been a sudden onset of winter, the next day would become a dark, deep-freeze.

I awoke the next morning, and came down stairs to find my mother home; more somber, but less frenzied than the day before. Again, she whisked me away to the bedroom my parents had shared. We sat on the end of their bed, and her disembodied voice assaulted my ears with the cold, quiet words, “Your father has gone home to be with Jesus.”  I didn’t know what to feel or what to say, my mother thought she did, though, “You’re the man of the house, now.”   None of those words meant anything to me.   Didn’t want Jesus or God or anyone else to have my dad.   I didn’t want to be, or even know how to be, “the man of the house.”   I just wanted my daddy.   Forty years later, I still cry and weep.  I still miss my daddy. I imagine that he sees me and is pleased with me, though I hold no real hope of ever seeing him.  Maybe mom found comfort in thinking daddy lived with Jesus, but I can’t. Is dad in some heavenly place? I don’t know.

I think that if anyone might be, however, it may be my “grandmother-in-love,” Anne Taylor. Anne was the grandmother of an ex-spouse of mine. Anne adored me and vice versa.  In a matter of speaking, she adopted me; I was the grandson she had always wanted but never had.  As things happened, I also was her primary medical care provider before she died.  Her passing still touches me.

I sat in the surprisingly comforting convalescent home room. My hand held the soft, warm hand of Grandma Anne; Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow, shallow, and rhythmic. Anne had just turned 98 a month before.  She had been social, and active all of the six months she had been in the residential care facility, until two days ago.  My wife and I had gotten a call that she was listless and quiet.  The next day we got a call that she was not waking up and we, “may want to get down here quickly if you want to say goodbye,” the nurse had said.  Anne had an order that we were not to take steps to keep her alive in the event of her death.  I was the executor of her medical power of attorney and now I sat, waiting to fulfill her wishes.

Her face was peaceful as she lay in the white bed sheets. My wife sat beside me gushing about how much she’d miss her grandma if she dies, but also saying how she’d be OK because she had me.  After 20 minutes of listening to my wife talking, I drew Anne’s hand to my lips and kissed it.  It was warm and soft beneath my lips. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead; it felt soft, and normal….not cold, not feverish…normal.  I whispered to her, “It’s OK, Grandma Anne.   You can go.”  It seems that her hand gave me a slight squeeze, as if to say, “Thank you for everything.”  I could be mistaken, but it seemed that a slight smile crossed her lips.   She drew in a final breath, and let it out as I watched.   I felt for a moment that I was looking at a photograph; everything stopped.  The room slowed, I stared, transfixed and cold, still holding Anne’s hand.  Over the next few moments, it seemed that there was an exchange that happened; I warmed, Anne’s hand grew cold, and the room sped up.   Did her spirit give me a hug as she left? The nurse behind called out a time for the record, but I did not hear; I just sat in silence.

I often sit and reflect back on these experiences. Both events happened in December, shortly before Christmas.  Both were major confrontations with death.  Yet, they were so different, and have affected me so differently.  Dad’s passing left chaos and pain. Annie’s passing left behind a sense of peace, wholeness, and completion, as odd as that may sound. When I pass, I can only hope it as peacefully as Anne did.  I hope that I will leave a legacy of change and wholeness, and that others will think back on me with fond memories.


Posted in Life and Encouragement, Misc Notes, Personal Reflections

Priorities & Love

I just finished watching the movie CLOVERFIELD, and I’m moved to tell you all, “I love you.” To some, this may seem like an odd statement.  Let me explain.

Whether you have seen it or not, whether you like it or not, whether you believe it or not, CLOVERFIELD is a movie about disaster, loss, and love. Yes, there is a huge monster destroying Manhattan, but the story is about people.  I live in Mendocino County, in Northern California.  As I write this, Mendocino, Napa, Lake, Solano, Marin, and other counties around me are experiencing disasters and fires that they’ve probably never before seen.  All around me whole neighborhoods are being wiped away by fire.  Lives are being destroyed, people die, and everything people  have worked for is destroyed.  This is very much what is happening in the movie CLOVERFIELD.

Until disaster strikes around you, a movie like CLOVERFIELD may seem farfetched. To me, as I sit in the middle of disaster, it is all too real.  I sit and look at the world around me.  Neighborhoods are destroyed by fire.  We just had a 3.8 earthquake.  Around the world war is raging.  The United States is falling apart, as foreign countries actively pushed to destroy us.  Nuclear capable countries threaten to nuke us off the map; something I believe will happen.

As seen in CLOVERFIELD, and in the recent events in my area, disaster strikes quickly and with little or no notice. As I watch the destruction unfolding before me in the movie and in real life I realize that life is short.  Things are just things, and  they can be replaced; but people and relationships cannot.  As I watch lives being snuffed out of around me, and in front of me (in the movie), I realize any life can end in an instant.  It is all too real.  It is all too fresh.

If every possession around me was gone, what would be left? People would be left!  But what if the life of an irreplaceable person next to me was snuffed out, gone?  What would my memory of last thing I said to them be?  If my life were to suddenly be snuffed out, what would people remember?

“I love you.” My friends, I love you all. You are all precious to me.  “I love you,” I see it as a heterosexual male…  “I love you.” I do not expect ever be in another romantic relationship, but I say, “I love you.” All I want is to see you all happy…  To see you all succeed…  To let you know you are not alone…  To let you know you are special…  I love you without expectation of it being reciprocated.  Just know that you are loved, you are cared for, you are special, and you would be missed if anything ever happened to you.…and I hope it never does.  Live Long and Prosper in All Things that are Good.

K.T. Klay

Posted in Life and Encouragement, Misc Notes


I enjoy being alone….and I don’t.

I cherish the time to be alone….and think….and process….and think….and plan….and think….and reflect….and think…..and sing….and plan….and think…and sing…and dance….and sing….and think….and write…and laugh….and cry…and think….

Through all life, I’ve found I need the time alone, but I also need the time with people. I need the time to share what’s happened and what’s happening….to bounce thoughts and ideas off people….to laugh, make laugh, and forget…. Then I must be alone to think….and process….and think….and plan….and think….and reflect….and think…..and sing….and plan….and think…and sing…and dance….and sing….and think….and write…and laugh….and cry…and think…. At times, I just sit and cry.

I’ve been at my most creative when I’m alone….made the most amazing discoveries, had the most profound thoughts…..then I’m with someone and they ask me a question about myself….something I think I know…or maybe I don’t really know… and I walk away to be alone….and think….and process….and think….and plan….and think….and reflect….and think…..and sing….and plan….and think…and sing…and dance….and sing….and think….and write…and laugh….and cry…and think…. and come up with insight into myself and situations that blow me away.


I’ve been alone, divorced, to over 2 years, now. There’s been a lot of growth and self-discovery in that time. The plays I’ve been in have allowed for tremendous growth and self-discovery….and healing. One day, someone who “makes my cells dance” when I’m around will come to me and say, “My life is unfulfilling and incomplete when you’re not around. Stay in my life and let me be a part of yours.” Until that day comes, I’ll be alone….and think….and process….and think….and plan….and think….and reflect….and think…..and sing….and plan….and think…and sing…and dance….and sing….and think….and write…and laugh….and cry…and think….

Posted in Crazy Mishaguyas, Misc Notes, Political Mishaguyas

I’ve got a CRAZY idea!

I’ve got a CRAZY idea!

Here it is: Let’s end “White Supremacy” by reaching worldwide “White Equality”!

In other words, everyone in the world will have the same power, privilege, status, pay, and “equality” as the average white male has had for centuries!

Let’s give all people of all sexual orientations, and preferences, the same preferential treatment that the “White Hetero-Sexual” male has enjoyed since time began.

Let’s finally treat others BETTER than the way we want to be treated, and treat each other with MORE respect than we expect.

I think that when the citizens and leaders of our world start to look at the other person (or people) as better than themselves, that we will finally achieve full equality, peace, and prosperity.

Of course, that wouldn’t be “White Supremacy,” but rather “World Wide Supremacy”…or “World Wide Equality” or maybe “World Peace.”

I know that it’s a CRAZY idea, but maybe it’s an idea who’s time has come?

No other “rational” ideas seem to work, so maybe it’s time to try a CRAZY one…and maybe we’d find it’s not so crazy after all….and that’s no mishaguyas!